


Just Order A Pizza

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Double Date, Hilarity Ensues, M/M, date, this is what happens when I take tumblr prompts i swear to god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was based off a tumblr prompt by an anon: Mystrade, accidental double-date with John and Sherlock. Hilarity ensues.</p>
<p>Pretty self-explanatory. Warnings for swearing, and mentions of coitus, nothing graphic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Order A Pizza

Mycroft Holmes glared across the table at his younger brother, irritation and annoyance building in the back of his mind. Sherlock was staring back at him, that perpetual arrogant smirk toying at the corners of his lips. Leave it to Sherlock to take John to the one place where he and Greg were spending their anniversary dinner (which Mycroft didn't really see the point of, to be brutally honest, but it was important to Greg, so he endured). John and Greg had, typically, been enthusiastic to see each other in a situation that didn't involve corpses and murder suspects, and no matter how many subtle signals the Holmes brothers gave them, they had insisted on getting a table together, in the dreaded 'double-date'. 

So, here they sat, Sherlock and John on one side, Greg and Mycroft on the other. Mycroft folded his menu and set it down, then steepled his fingers under his chin. He raised one eyebrow and smirked at Sherlock, who all but snarled back at him. To say that the Brothers Holmes slightly disliked each other would be like saying that Attila the Hun was a little angry.

Mycroft assessed Sherlock's mood (as he was sure Sherlock was doing to him at that very moment, though not as well, thanks to his utter social ineptitude), then spoke.

"I cannot believe that you would bring John here, Sherlock. What's the occasion?"

And so it begun.

"John and I have been dating for three months. He asked what we would do to celebrate said milestone, and I suggested dinner here. Simple."

"Really? You agreed to this, a completely trivial event to mark a 'milestone'? Seems to be very unlike you."

"It is important to John's emotional well being that we do these 'completely trivial' events."

"Since when do you care about others' emotions?"

"I don't care about emotions, brother, but John wouldn't have sex with me if I didn't go on these useless excursions." Sherlock retorted, earning him a swift kick under the table from his red-faced partner.

"That is far more information than I ever could have wanted or needed to know, Sherlock."

"Well, someone isn't 'getting any', I think is the term."

"You know very well that I had sex a long time before you did. I am just too polite to speak of such things in public."

"Obviously not, as you're speaking of them right now. Tell me, is Lestrade good in bed?"

"That question is completely inappropriate." 

Greg's face was crimson at this point, and he seemed to take quite an interest in the calamari on the menu, making a big show of pointing it out to John, who took just as much interest, both trying to hide their embarrassment.

"John's good in bed."

"SHERLOCK!" John kicked Sherlock in the shin a second time, but the detective didn't even wince.

"I do not want nor feel the need to know these things, Sherlock. Honestly, did I never teach you manners, or did you just delete them, along with how to be a productive member of society?"

"The only 'manners' you taught me were how to lick the boots of whomever I came across in the hopes of furthering myself. Like what you do, only instead of sucking up to pretentious aunts and uncles, you now let dignitaries walk all over you."

"You seem to forget, brother dear, that I am the one who averted that crisis with Syria."

"And _you_ seem to have forgotten that..."

"Oi, shut up you two," Greg interrupted, "This is supposed to be a happy occasion, not World War Three _or_ a discussion of our sex lives. Calm down."

If looks could kill, the contents of Greg's skull would have been splattered across the wall and over all the other patrons at the restaurant. Sherlock and Mycroft were staring daggers at him, for once united in their hatred of being told what to do by those of lesser intelligence. Greg slumped back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, sighing loudly. John mimicked his movement, only his sigh was much quieter.

Mycroft, seeing as well as feeling his partner's obvious distress, decided to grit his teeth and be civil with his frustrating younger brother, even if it killed him.

"Any new cases lately, then?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound as pleasant as was physically possible.

Sherlock smirked at him from over his water glass, and it took every ounce of self-control Mycroft had not to sneer.

"Not recently, which is part of the reason I agreed to go on this anniversary date."

"How typical." Mycroft scoffed, his vow of civility suddenly disappearing.

Sherlock finally had enough, and abruptly stood up, storming out of the restaurant in a huff. John and Greg both turned to Mycroft, who shrugged and went back to looking at his menu. "I'll go get him!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation and standing up to chase after Sherlock.

"You could try a _little_ harder to be nice, Mycroft." Greg muttered in a disapproving tone. Mycroft turned his head and glared at his lover, silently daring him to say another word. Greg decided to back off, as he saw a flash (only a flash, mind you) of Sherlock in Mycroft's eyes. "Just...damn it, Mycroft, why can't you two just fucking get along for once?" Mycroft inwardly cringed at Greg's colourful language (having only just gotten used to his swearing in private, much less in a public place like a restaurant), but kept his face a mask. 

"You know very well why Sherlock and I do not get along."

"Yeah, well, you should try. It's really fucking annoying watching you two fight like two squabbling schoolgirls."

Mycroft actually did cringe at that image, but managed to regain his composure long enough to stand up and walk away from the table, leaving a dumbstruck Greg in his wake. A plan was already forming in his brilliant mind.

He approached his younger brother and John, sighing inwardly at what he was about to do.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock turned around at the sound of his brother's voice, and glared at him. "What do you want?" he spat. Mycroft sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It has come to my attention that, for the sake of our respective partners, that we might fare better if we at least tried to get along, rather than bickering constantly."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but let his brother continue. Which Mycroft did, but with slightly less enthusiasm.

"I suggest that we contain our fighting to times and places appropriate for such interaction, most notably when our partners are not present. Does this sound acceptable to you?"

Sherlock was about to respond, most likely with another biting comment, but John pinched him, and instead he let out a slight yelp.

"Fine! This arrangement does sound acceptable." Sherlock pouted, folding his arms and turning up his coat collar. Mycroft nodded, then turned his head to look at his approaching partner, his expression blatantly saying 'happy now?'. Greg smiled and nodded his approval, then turned to talk to John. Sherlock and Mycroft took this opportunity to sneak back into the restaurant, quietly bickering the entire way.

When the two geniuses were out of earshot, both the army doctor and the DI breathed a sigh of relief. "How long d'you think they'll keep this up?" Greg questioned, leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant. Greg pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, then spoke.

"Next time, we'll just fucking order a pizza."


End file.
